


Half-Full

by bipolarweeb



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Complete, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, One Shot, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-12
Updated: 2019-02-12
Packaged: 2019-10-26 18:25:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17751140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bipolarweeb/pseuds/bipolarweeb
Summary: He wouldn't talk to you. He wouldn't even look at you. And at some point during the night you'd had enough of it.





	Half-Full

**Author's Note:**

> There are so many fics of the nights when 707 comes to the apartment to keep an eye on MC, so here's another one. 
> 
> Follow me on Tumblr at bipolarweeb!

It’s late. Probably into the early hours of the morning by now, but you couldn’t be sure.

He’s been sitting at the computer since it first started getting dark outside, with only his Ph.D Pepper for company. No food, no water, not even a bathroom break. And of course no talking to you. 

You’ve been standing at the threshold of the room for probably thirty minutes just observing him. His posture is tense, his shoulders are shrugged up against his ears and his back is arched rigidly over the computer as his clever fingers tap away at the keyboard. His headphones sit on his ears, although you suspect nothing is playing in them. 

Among the several crushed cans of Ph.D Pepper, a glass of water sits completely untouched. You’d stubbornly gotten it for him when he first sat down, thinking maybe at some point during the night he would drink something that wasn’t filled with sugar, but you’d underestimated his ability to ignore you. 

“Seven?” You venture, still leaning against the doorframe. His consistent typing on the keyboard falters a single tap before steadying again, but other than that he gives no sign he heard you. 

You sigh. “You need to stay hydrated, Seven. All that caffeine is going to give you a heart attack,” you tell him. Again, nothing. 

Fine. 

You grit your teeth before pushing off of the doorframe, walking a few steps toward him in the darkened room. 

After so many hours, you decide you are done being delicate with him; he’s clearly not bothered by not being delicate with you. Maybe a few harsh words will get through to him since your patient ones are not. 

“So this is how it’s going to be,” a statement, not a question. You walk so you are directly behind him, your hands on your hips. You see his jaw clench tighter as he hears you approach. So those headphones _are_ just for show. 

“All that crap you said in the messenger was just that, huh?” You don’t believe it, but at this point you would try anything to get him to say _something_. “That’s not fair, Seven. You say all these things to make me think we could be friends, that we _are_ friends, and then act surprised and push me away when I start to care about you? You _know_ that’s not fair.” 

_I will be your knight in shining armor._

_Let’s marry in the space station._

No. You shake your head to push his words out of your mind. Now is not the time to get caught up in the times he felt like being charming. 

You think of his harsher words instead. 

_I don’t want to get close to you at all._

_I don’t care about your feelings._

_We can’t be friends._

You feel your face begin to heat up with anger. You cross your arms. 

He could say whatever he liked, he could spit all the venom he wanted in your face, but you could see the anguish behind his eyes. No matter what he continued to say to try to push you away, no matter how much he claimed not to care about you or the RFA, you would never believe it. 

“And _then_ ,” you continue, “to say you’re acting like a dick to keep me safe, and _not_ because you’re scared that someone might actually _care_ for you. You can say you’re not the Seven in the chat, you can pretend you’re this person who is so cold and indifferent and apathetic toward others, but I’ll let you in on a secret, Luciel,” you see him flinch subtly at your use of his name, and you bring your lips close to his covered ear. “I’ll never believe you,” you say softly. 

With that, you decide to be brave. You shuffle around to his side, only to grab his shoulder to turn him in the chair. The instant your fingers touch him, Seven pushes the chair back on its wheels with enough force to make it tip and fall backwards onto the floor. His earphones land on the ground as well, unplugged from the jack. 

He ignores everything as he stands up stiffly, his glasses slightly askew on his face. Only now do you realize you’re nearly a head and a half shorter than him, but you’re not about to let him intimidate you. 

“Stop it,” he says coldly, and despite his harsh tone, you feel the warmth of victory flood your chest as he finally speaks to you. 

“No,” you say boldly, taking a step toward him. “I won’t. Not until you talk to me.” 

He presses his lips together and looks away from you, and you can see he’s weighing the pros and cons in his head to see if it’s worth it. 

He shakes his head before covering his face with both hands. Your heart sinks. You open your mouth to speak again, but he’s dropping one hand from his face and shoving the other into his hair, pushing it back so you can finally get a good look at his defeated expression. 

“Don’t you get it, MC?” his soft tone is pleading. “You could die. You’re living with a bomb that could, in theory, detonate at any moment. My brother almost kidnapped you. _My brother._ To take you to whatever the hell cult that has apparently been brainwashing him ever since we were separated. Who knows what could’ve happened to you if he’d succeeded.” 

Your eyes widen, as you hadn’t expected for him to begin talking about his brother. 

“I want to know what kind of game Saeran is playing, sending you to this apartment, having you download our app—an app that he shouldn’t even _know_ about—and somehow shoving you into my life like this.” Seven’s voice is still soft, but a slightly hysterical tone has crept its way up his throat as he starts to talk about you. “It’s like he _knew_ how much you would mean to me, how _crushed_ I would be if you died or disappeared. How the hell can he know all these things about the RFA, how can he know all these things about _me?_ It just doesn’t make any sense. 

“And V…” Seven removes his hand from his hair and begins to anxiously crack his knuckles. “He’s lying about something. He has to be. Why else would he be acting so strangely? How can he—“ Seven’s ramble abruptly cuts off as he turns around to press his hands on the desk the computer is sat on. He leans all his weight on the desk as he lets out a frustrated groan. 

His voice remains soft when he speaks again, though more to himself than to you. “How can this be happening?” 

You feel tears pooling in your eyes as you listen to his ramble, feeling worse knowing that he’s trying to stay calm so not to scare you. He’s trying, but you could see the panic in his eyes. 

Guilt eats at you. If only you hadn’t answered “Unknown’s” original text. Maybe then no one would be in this current situation. 

But, you think, Saeran would still be in whatever this cult organization thing is, and Seven would still think his brother was okay. So would it really be for the better if you had never answered the text? 

Seven is still facing the computer desk, leaning his weight on it and making it creak. You want to approach him, but don’t know if it’s the best idea. 

You try to speak to him first. “Luciel?” you try gently, but he doesn’t respond. 

You shake your head, but decide to give him a moment as you pick up the fallen headphones and place them back on the desk. You grab the chair that had been at the computer and set it right side up. You roll it so the seat gently hits the back of Seven’s knees, and he sits down, as you wanted him to do. 

His hands are like claws against the armrests, and his head is drooping against his chest. His eyes are shut tightly and all you want to do is comfort him. 

You press your lips together, and try to tell yourself that touching him isn’t the best idea, but right now it’s your _only_ idea. 

You slowly sink down to your knees next to him, and you realize like this you’re almost eye to eye with him. He’s still taller sitting than you are kneeling, but now it’s merely inches instead of a foot. It makes him seem less untouchable, in both the literal and metaphorical sense. 

“Luciel,” you repeat his name quietly, and slowly smooth your hand over his. He flinches for only a moment before letting you slide your fingers over his. You let out a long sigh, and for the first time tonight you feel a little bit of hope. 

“What am I supposed to do?” he murmurs, and you find yourself leaning in so you can hear him better. “What am I supposed to do when you just won’t stop? No matter what I do you just keep trying.” 

A soft laugh escapes you despite the seriousness of the situation, and you answer, “That’s what happens when someone cares about someone else, Seven.” He tightens his grip on your hand. “I know it’s hard, but you’re not alone anymore. You can let people in, and those people want to help you because they care about you. I want to, the whole RFA wants to, but you just won’t let anyone in.” 

He nods to himself, as if your words are only just now beginning to make sense. You lift a hand up, and pause letting him know your intention, and he nods minutely. You cradle his cheek in your palm, and gently sweep your thumb under his eye, getting rid of the tears that had fallen there. 

He surprises you when he slides off the edge of the chair, falling onto his knees onto the floor with you. He surprises you even more when he wraps his arms tightly around your waist and buries his face in your hair. You’re frozen for a moment, before you return his hug, wrapping your own arms around his neck, and weaving your fingers through his hair. 

You squeeze your eyes shut, and you can feel an exaggerated sigh move the hair around the nape of your neck. For a second you think he is about to push you away, but instead you feel him place a light, barely there, kiss to the side of your neck. 

Your breath hitches, but you don’t dare move and ruin the tenderness of the moment. 

You remain in his embrace for several minutes, soaking up all the affection he’s willing to give. When he finally withdraws from the hug, he lifts his fingers to move the stray strands of hair that had gotten into your eyes, and you find yourself frozen again when he smiles softly at you. 

“Thank you, MC. And I’m sorry,” he tells you, and before you are able to tell him _it’s okay, we’ll get through this together_ , he interrupts with a shake of his head, “but please, just let me do what I need to do for now.” Your heart sinks as he speaks, and you can already see the next few hours going by like the previous few had. It makes you feel sick. 

He stands up, bringing you with him as he holds both of your hands. “Let me keep you safe, let me find my brother. After everything is fixed and you and Saeran are both out of harm’s way, I promise we can talk about our future.” 

_Our future_. The words make your eyes misty, and you pull back somewhat so you can better look at his face. His red hair curls over his eyes and you can’t resist the temptation to push it back. You push the hair out of his face and see his eyes are closed. Your hand falls from his hair to his cheek, and he leans slightly into your palm. 

You smile at the serene look on his face before moving your hand from his face and poking him lightly on his cheek. “Promise?” 

He smiles a closed-lipped grin back, grabbing your hand in one of his and lightly brushing his lips across the back. “Promise.” 

An hour later, he’s back in his position at the computer, and the familiar scene makes you sigh. A glass of water is in your hands, and you set it down next to him, among the many, many cans of Ph.D Pepper. You raise an eyebrow at him when he nods his thanks. 

Another hour goes by, and you breach the threshold between the rooms, only to smile when you see half of the water gone.


End file.
